


With a Sense of Shame

by semperama



Series: Tumblr Ficlets - Pinto [30]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Drunkenness, M/M, Self-Destruction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 08:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11573805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semperama/pseuds/semperama
Summary: Zach learned what it was like to feel true pleasure from Chris. He learned how to make each second count. So when, exactly, did Chris leave him out here alone?





	With a Sense of Shame

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the song prompt "It's a Sin" by Pet Shop Boys

Zach opens his eyes in the back of a car, his face resting against the cool pane of the window. The city lights blur together in a way that turns his stomach and has him swallowing hard and putting a hand to his forehead. He’s disoriented, certain he was in the club a moment ago heading up to refresh his drink. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s lost time on a night out, but it doesn’t get any less unpleasant.

Once the nausea subsides a little, he carefully, carefully turns his head to see Chris sitting beside him, watching him carefully.

“Are you back on planet Earth?” Chris asks. He’s trying for joking, but his grin is stiff and his voice too flat.

Zach groans, both at the way the seat seems to tilt and at the disapproval he can feel coming off Chris in waves. “No,” he says. “Not even close. Where are we going?”

“Back to my place. Not gonna drop you back at your hotel and worry about you choking on your own vomit in the middle of the night.”

Stupid, juvenile defensiveness brings a scowl to Zach’s face and makes him turn away again—too quickly, so his head spins. This is the outcome he’d been hoping for—going back to Chris’s house—but he hadn’t planned on Chris treating him like an unruly child in the process. Back in the old days, they did this all the time. They’d go out with friends, live it up, then ride home together and burn off their residual energy while they were still buzzing, fall asleep sweaty and sated and curled around each other. Zach learned what it was like to feel true pleasure from Chris. He learned how to make each second count. So when, exactly, did Chris leave him out here alone?

“I’m fine,” he mumbles against the window. But he isn’t. He wants to slump over and lay his head on Chris’s thigh.

They don’t speak for the rest of the ride, or on the walk up to Chris’s door, even though Chris keeps an arm wrapped around Zach’s waist to support his shuffling steps and slushy knees. They don’t speak when Chris unlocks the door and drags Zach inside and starts leading him toward the guest room, heedless of Wednesday sniffing around their heels. It isn’t until Chris tries to dump Zach on the bed that Zach pulls away and holds Chris at arm’s length and tries to think how to make this right.

“Didn’t you have fun?” he asks.

It’s the wrong question—it must be—because Chris grimaces. “You have to cut this shit out, Zach.”

“This is how we do things.” He curls his fingers into Chris’s shirt and gently pulls him closer. “I don’t know how to do it any differently.”

At one time he might have, before he styled himself as this guy who isn’t satisfied having anything in moderation. It’s like he got stuck somewhere, years ago, and he can’t find his way out. Every now and then Chris finds him here, in this dark place, but he won’t keep coming back forever. That much is clear. Clearer still when Chris backs out of Zach’s grasp and turns for the door.

“You better figure it out,” he says.

“No, wait.” It’s a relief when Chris stops short, though he doesn’t look over his shoulder. “Please stay,” Zach begs, shameless and slurring. “Just stay. We don’t have to—”

He can’t say it. He wants to. He can’t guarantee he won’t roll over in the middle of the night and press his lips to Chris’s neck, to that spot under his jaw that always makes him melt. But for now all he wants is to keep Chris from walking out that door, because if that happens, this may be the last time, the very last time. The end of Chris’s patience.

“Zach,” he sighs—but then his shoulders slump and he turns back around. He lifts his eyes from the floor and looks at Zach, and Zach sees defeat there, but something else too. Something wistful. Something hopeful. Maybe Zach will fuck this up irreparably tomorrow, but he hasn’t done it tonight, and that’s good enough. It will have to be.


End file.
